111
THE LITTLE BOY'S BED-TIME.
Translated from Madame Desborde Valmore.
Hush! no more fire, no noise—all round is still.
See the pale moon hath on th' horizon risen
While thou wert speaking,Victor Hugo.
Sleep, little Paul, what, crying, hush ! the night is very dark;
The wolves are near the rampart, the dogs begin to bark;
The bell has rung for slumber, and the guardian angel weeps
When a little child beside the hearth so late a play-time keeps.
"I will not always go to sleep, I like to watch the light
Of the fire upon my sabre, so glittering and so bright;
And I will keep the wolves at bay, if they approach the door;"
And again the little naughty one sat undrest upon the floor.
"My God! forgive the wayward child who mocks his mother's word;
Oh Thou! the long in suffering! whose wrath is slowly stirr'd;
Knowledge within the opening soul has but a feeble ray,
Wait till he knows Thy graciousness! wait till a future day.
"The little birds since set of sun are plunged in slumbers deep;
The long grass and the lonely trees are filled with them asleep;
The little birds, new from the shell, have left the topmost bough,
And 'neath the midnight's trembling shade they all are resting now.
